


'tis the damn season

by BloodAndRosesBitch



Category: Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Place
Genre: Actually if you're a kid please dont be reading this, Aftercare, Because consent is good kids, Berg Is In Love With Pete, Body Worship, Daddy Kink, Dom Pete, Fluff and Smut, M/M, My Real Kink: People being nice to each other, POV First Person, Pete is in love with Berg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, So get ready for the fluff, Sub Berg, consent is my kink, go read the magic treehouse or something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodAndRosesBitch/pseuds/BloodAndRosesBitch
Summary: Sharon and Johnny are out for the weekend, visiting Johnny's family for the holidays. Berg has prepared an epic holiday-themed movie marathon for him and Pete, but as Pete quickly finds out, Berg might have had some other ideas too. *unsubtle wink*
Relationships: Michael Bergen/Pete Dunville
Kudos: 1





	'tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to "'tis the damn season," off of Taylor Swift's new album, and my brain just went "well what if this was about dunberg?" and I went "wait a second im already writing it" and it rare that me and my brain get along this well, so I'm riding the wave. This was also _supposed_ to be a one-shot, but... well, it just got kind of long and there were some natural breaks in there, so here goes nothing. Can I multitask writing fics with chapters? We shall see.
> 
> Many thanks to my friend on Tumblr who helped me decide which kinks to include!! <3

The light from the street lamps is reflecting off the freshly fallen snow tonight, and it's turning everything I can see (that Boston cityscape I will always love) into gilded silver. The sky looks a little less dark than usual, navy blue with little pinpricks of light shining through. The night's own glowing snowflakes, stuck up there with cosmic glue (what would that be, gravity?).

"Sharon's gone?" I ask Berg, turning away from the window and watching him fiddle around with the VHS player he's borrowing from some girl he sort of knew in high school. It doesn't quite work right, but Berg said he would figure something out.

"Left 15 minutes ago with Johnny, the wild lass," he says in a bad Irish accent, and I feel laughter bubble up from my throat. Even setting up a piece of technology determined to ruin our perfect holiday-movie-marathon weekend plan can be fun with Berg. It's crazy. "Sometimes I think we raised her to be this way, sometimes I think she's just a while woman," he mutters.

"What was tha-- actually, nevermind. What about the carolers?"

"Bribed them with a blowjob each not to come to our door for the weekend."

I frown at him. "Isn't that prostitution? And aren't they all men?"

He snorts, and glances up at me. "Yeah, you can't give a vagina a blowjob, Pete. And no, it's not. I checked. If anyone asks, we're very good friends with the entire group."

"Wait," I say, pulling at the hem of my sweater. "You have sex with men?"

He shrugs and goes back to fiddling with the player. "Whoever said I was straight?" My heart pounds against my chest, for some reason. That's not a thing I should be excited by, but I am.

"Aren't they a church group?"

He grins. "Not if you don't ask so many questions."

I cross my arms, but will myself to stop thinking about the men and the blowjobs and Berg _of all people_ giving them out. I wonder how it would feel. If it would be good, if Berg would moan fo--

Maybe not those thoughts right now.

I was the one who asked for Berg to ensure that we didn't have any interruptions, and the carolers were really pretty annoying. It was justified, I guess, if it was all Berg could get them to agree to. I won't ask him if it was. I'd rather not know.

"Ha!" Berg cries suddenly, startling me out of my reverie and jumping up and doing a silly victory dance. "I have finally slayed the foul beast of technological difficulties! I do hope you will knight me for my efforts, my king." He gets down on one knee beneath me, bowing.

I nod solemnly. "Anything else would be crime against your bold effort. You are my _best_ warrior. It is time for the ceremony." I grab the remote controller from the arm of the couch and tap him once one each shoulder. "I proclaim thee Sir Michael Bergen of my kingdom, apartment 4B. Thou hast done well in thine ordeals." Berg smiles up at me, blindly bright, and looks exceedingly pleased with himself. He stands back up and snatches the remote from me, waving it tantalizingly in the air.

"Are you ready for the best holiday movie marathon you've ever had?"

"This will be the _only_ holiday movie marathon I've ever had."

"Still counts," he says, then before I can stop him he grabs my arm and flops down onto the couch, pulling me down with him. The frame groans beneath our sudden weight, and I am intensely aware of his face suddenly inches from mine, his warm body and soft, large hands wrapped around my arms, his huffs of breathy laughter (what a beautiful sound, it's always staccato-pretty). My heart racing, thumping against my ribs and adrenaline like never before coursing through my veins. In a moment of bold amnesia, I shake his hands off and use mine to pin his wrists down beside his head. Are we really just friends? The thought rips through my head, and when I stop moving Berg's laughter freezes into a cautious stare. _Friends. We are best friends._

"Okay there?" He asks me, and I shake my head quickly.

"Sorry. Don't know what got into me." I push up, up, and away from him and arrange myself on the cushions like a normal person who did not just have concerning impulses regarding their friend.

"No need to 'pologize," he mumbles, his normal casual courage impeded. Stupid, stupid me. Why'd I have to go and make stuff weird?

I take a deep breath, settle my nerves with a second one, and turn to Berg. "So! What's our first movie?" I ask with forced enthusiasm.

Berg gives me a look that may either be grateful or condescending. I know he sees through my bullshit, at the least. "Die Hard. I can't believe I'm showing someone Die Hard for the first time! This is on my bucket list," he says, hitting play on the remote.

* * *

Well, now I understand why people are so crazy about this movie.

I mean, it certainly helped that Bruce Willis may be one of the most attractive men I've ever seen, but the plot was interesting, and the villains were fun.

Also, John McClain may have awakened something within me. No big deal.

"So?" Berg asks, looking at me with a big grin as the credits roll. "What'd you think?"

"I..." I bite my lip and search the air for the perfect balance between _This movie may have changed my life forever and now I'm horny_ and _It was watchable_. "I liked it a lot."

"C'mon," Berg says, punching my shoulder. "Give me a little more. Contrary to popular belief, I am neither telepathic nor omniscient, though I'm working on that last one."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I don't think anyone believes you're either of those things."

"Pete, humor me." He makes those big puppy-dog eyes that no one in their right mind can resist, and I sigh.

"Fine. I thought it was entertaining, and I would watch it again. I liked Alan Rickman. Is that detailed enough for you?" Berg shakes his head, and my breath hitches. There's no way he could know how I feel already. It's impossible. As has already been established, he is neither telepathic or omniscient (thank God). "What do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"Are you looking for a specific truth?"

He gives me the side-eye. "Yeah."

"Well, which one?"

"The one where you couldn't stop drooling over John McClain."

I shake my head. "I think you've got something wrong with you. I barely gave the guy two glances."

"He was the main character."

"Underscores _how little I care_ about him."

"What's the problem, Pete? Why're you holding out on me?"

I glare at Berg sharply. "Let's just watch the next movie." He whines, but gets up to put the next movie in. I watch him as he does, somehow spellbound by something so simple as his movements. They're graceful, I guess, but I'm mostly looking at his arms, so lean and fine. His fingers press the tape into the slot, and I can't help but wonder what they would feel like in my hole, pressing in-

I shouldn't be thinking about that. _Friends_.

Berg slumps back down onto the couch next to me and I skillfully avoid looking at him completely.

"What's this movie gonna be?"

"It's called Krampus. You're going to love it, trust me." I glance over at him after a moment, and he's smiling.

"That grin makes me think I shouldn't..."

"Trust me," Berg repeats, then hits play.

* * *

I may be scarred for life. I will never see Christmas the same way again. I want to cry. I want to die. I want to die before I can be killed by fucking Krampus. Berg turns to me, and raises an eyebrow. I'm going to get killed in my sleep. I'm never even gonna see it coming or have a chance to fight back.

"Why are you shivering?"

I glare at him. "Did you really think it was a good idea to show me a horror movie? You know how scared I get." He shrugs and I let out a low, frustrated sound. "Come _on_ Berg! You know me! I'm neurotic and anxious! It's not _that_ _hard_ to not watch holiday horror movies!"

Berg blinks, then shakes his head. "You know what, you're right. I'm sorry." I search for even a hint of humor or sarcasm, and I don't find it. His eyes flick over my body and I feel it like a burn. "I think I didn't make good choices when renting these movies. I have an ulterior movie, I guess."

I feel my anger melt a little bit, and nod. "Thank you for apologizing." I pause, and pin him down with a sharp look. "Wait, what ulterior motives could you possibly have?"

He doesn't break eye contact. He keeps fidgeting like maybe he wants to, but can't seem to follow through. "Holiday movie marathon weekend. Two days when we'd be completely alone together."

I ignore the skipping of my heart. "We're always alone together. We live together."

He leans in towards me almost involuntarily, and sighs. "Sharon practically lives with us, too. Not the same. Not like now. And, well..."

I feel like we both lose gravity, then, lost in the space between each other, floating anchor-less. I can't breathe. I'm sure my insides are beginning to boil. But I can't stop looking at Berg. I've only seen him this close up a few times, and I'm captivated by him. I feel like both an entomologist studying a strange bug and a teen with a sexy magazine model come to life. That's how beautiful Berg is. He looks like an airbrushed porn star/model. His lips are red and partially hanging open, the most welcoming thing I've seen since we found this apartment. His skin is smooth and eyes are bright chocolate, peering inquisitively into mine. I can feel his small, warm breaths against my face.

A moment, mere seconds, before he begins to lean even closer to me, I get it. Like a spark in my brain, synapses firing off.

I get it.

And then we're kissing, lips against lips, bodies flush together. I push him over, onto his back, and his hands begin to explore my body. I straddle his hips his my knees. One of his hands races down my back and finds the end of my shirt, coming up under it and pressing his cold fingers into my warm spine. I squirm a little bit, then melt into the feeling. I press my hips into his, and he lets out a delectable little moan, all breathy. His free hand scrambles up to my scalp, digging his nails in and pressing my face harder into his. Little sparks of pleasure run across my nerves and then it's my turn to let out a moan. Mine is throatier, and when Berg hears it he bucks his hips. I can feel myself getting hard, so I peel away, breath heaving.

"We can't have sex," I pant, eyes glued to Berg's pinked lips. _I did that_.

"Why not?" He pouts, sliding his hand from my head but not removing the one under my shirt. I don't blame him. If I could get under his shirt in this position without falling over, I don't think he'd be talking so much as squealing. I'd make sure of it.

"It'd change everything. Forever."

"I'm pretty sure we already accomplished that." It's crazy, how I feel about this. I want to say yes. Over and over again. I want to make his scream, and I want to feed him pleasure until he cums a million different times, helpless in my arms. "For the weekend," Berg says suddenly.

"What?"

"Let's try having sex for the weekend. Boyfriends or fuckbuddies or friends with benefits. Whatever you want to call it, I don't care. If you're not addicted to me by Monday morning, we'll drop it and never talk about this again."

I bite my lip. That would make a lot of sense. And I could find a cure for all these dirty thoughts I keep having about him. "Fine. But you better live up to your reputation, Bergen."

He lifts himself up off the couch a little bit, lips brushing my earlobe. "Oh, babe, you _know_ I will."

"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "What first?"

"What, have you never had sex before?"

"Never with you."

"I'm painfully aware of this fact. Let's fix it."

"Actually, when I said 'what first' I meant, what should we _talk_ about first. Consent? Fantasies? The way you're the prettiest person I've ever met?"

Berg blushes and bats his hand at me. "Aw, you must say that to all the girls."

I smile, and press a kiss to his forehead. "Nah, you're special."

"What turns you on?" He asks it in this husky voice I've never heard him use before. It makes me shiver. He grins.

"Well, I like it when I'm in power. And I love it when people are helpless against me, in a consensual way."

Berg laughed softly. "I can make that work. What do you want to do to me, daddy?" I shiver again, and feel my body react, which Berg notices too (judging by his growing smile). "Enjoy that?"

I gulp, and nod. This is so unfamiliar. Most of the women I've been with have preferred more... vanilla sex, except for Melissa. There's an excited buzzing in the pit of my stomach. "What do you want, Berg?" It's surreal to me that his name is on my lips. That his body is under mine, cheeks flushed. We're asking each other what we want. We're... going to have sex.

"I want you to dominate me. Worship me. Be your adorable self." He runs his hands through my short hair, down my neck, and onto my chest.

"Wonderful," I practically purr. "Do you wanna be my beautiful boy?"

He inhales sharply and nods. It feels so special to see him this vulnerable, this delicate. Not a sheen of his false confidence is showing through. It's just me and him, alone together. It's unique and glorious, and feels holy somehow. The closest I've ever been to religion.

I peel myself off of him and sit up, crossing my arms. "So, you want this all to happen?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

Berg rolls his eyes at me and sits up to. "Pete. Buddy. My freshly minted sweetheart. It's going to be okay. We are adults. Do you want to have a safeword or something?"

I smile, and let myself relax. "Yeah, I think that'd be good."

"Okay..." Berg flicks his eyes around the room, then gives me a devilish grin. "How about _yippie-kai-yay_?"

I giggle. "You're absolutely awful, Berg. I love it." I push him a little and he wiggles happily before tipping over, face-up onto the couch cushions.

"Push me harder, Pete! I'll die of old age before I die of you at this rate."

"Shut your face, baby boy. You're prettier when you don't talk." I crawl on top of him and start at work getting his shirt off, first on the plaid button-down that he has on as a pseudo-jacket.

"I didn't think you'd be so comfortable pushing me around," Berg murmurs, perhaps not a comment meant for me.

"Pretty boys don't talk," I repeat. "Lift up your arms." He does, and I pull off both his shirts in one go. "That's such a good boy," I whisper, kissing his neck. I hear his breath shutter and know I'm doing something right. "Yeah, you're so pretty. Have I told you yet?"

"No," Berg says, his voice quieter than before but still a teasing tone.

"What did I say about talking?" Berg falls silent, and I smile. "My pretty, good boy. Can I be a little rough?"

Berg snorts, but doesn't say anything, nodding and grinning. I nip at his neck, just using my front teeth and making sure it's gentle to start out with. He lets out a little sound, and I bite down harder, closer to his collarbone.

"This is how I know you're mine, beautiful." I bite down again, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to drawn blood. Berg groans beneath me, his hips twitching. I let out a sharp moan as he manages to brush my crotch. "Your chest is so amazing," I mutter, and shimmy down until I'm at eye-level with it. I begin to suck on one of his nipples, and he arches his back to press his skin more into me. I trail kisses down his chest, from his nipples to his lowest abdominal muscle. "You're so pretty," I murmur into his skin.

"Pretty as the city at night. _Alluring_. You make me wanna come in my pants right now."

Berg lets out a scathing moan, loud enough that I'm sure the neighbors can hear, but I don't really care anymore. I feel that heavy daze of lust falling over me, and I can see it in the way Berg is moving and the look in his deep brown eyes.

I lift my mouth up, and Berg _whines_. It's amazing, the sounds this man can make that I wasn't aware of. It's even more amazing that I'm the one making him make these sounds. I'm not sure I ever want to go back to that not knowing again, but that's a discussion for later.

"Since you've been so good, baby boy, I'll allow you to say one word. Do you know what it is?"

Berg shakes his head frantically, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"Daddy."

He nods. "Daddy."

I shiver, and start to undo his fly. I pull off his pants, then his boxers. His marvelous dick stands before me, half erect, leaking precum slightly, and I can feel myself start to drool. I didn't realize how hungry I was for something more until now. I like my lips and give Berg's cock a light kiss, then bite the inside of his thighs.

He lets out a low groan. "Daddy, fuck me, please. Right now. Give it to me."

I dig my nails into the meat of his legs and growl. "Boy, what did we say about _talking_?"

Another groan escapes from Berg's mouth, and I'm getting so hard. I can feel that wonderfully hot sensation tightening under my stomach. I go down on Berg, putting him into my mouth as far as I can go, using my tongue and my teeth to elicit sounds of pleasure and pain from his little dirty lips.

"Daddy, daddy," he babbles on and on, his head lost completely in lust. The only word he can say is the one I told him he could, and that make me want to cuss.

Suddenly I remove my mouth from his penis, making a sharp popping sound. He whines, and I take off my pants.

"Don't worry, baby. You're being so good, better than anyone else." He moans, and his hands reach blindly for me. "But before I let you come, you're going to have to get me off. I promise I'll give you a reward if you're good."

"Mhmm," he says. I slip out of my underwear and crawl onto him, not letting any part of me touch his swollen cock. He opens his mouth before I'm even all the way up towards him, his eyes closed and his hands shaking into fists. "Daddy," he says again.

"My pretty boy," I answer, and guide myself into his mouth.

The feeling is sublime. Better than anything I've ever felt, better than beer, better than any touch I know. I push my hands through his hair and grab onto it, guiding him as he sucks me off. " _Ooh_ , my beautiful pretty boy, you're so good. Oh, fuck me please, you're perfect and pretty and stunning, fuck me--" My words get lost in a high-pitched, pornographic moan and I glance down at Berg. He's staring at me, not blinking, his brown eyes clouded. He wraps his hands around my ass cheeks and shoves me farther in, and I let out another noise. I dig my hands into his scalp and he groans around my dick. Threads of pleasure, white-hot and immense, wrap around my insides, squeezing them and itching them until I know I'm about to break open. 

"Oh," I gasp. "Berg, I'm about to come."

He swirls his tongue around, and I feel myself release into his mouth. I think I make a large, sharp sound but I'm not entirely sure. My head feels foggy after coming, and I remove myself and take Berg's face in my hands. He leans into my touch, his eyes still glossed over with lust. I bet he's still hard too, the amazing man.

"Why didn't you take me out?"

"I like to swallow it, daddy," he replies, voice surprisingly steady. I can hear a shudder after he stops talking, though, and I know it's time to give him his reward.

"You're such a good boy," I murmur into his cheek before crawling down to his penis and find that he is, indeed, still completely erect. It's nearly superhuman. He squirms when I take him in my mouth again, and I use all my abilities, teeth and tongue and lips, fingers and nails digging into the most sensitive places I can find.

"Oh, daddy," Berg says, grabbing a fistful of my hair, his eyes rolling back in his head. I suck him all the way down, right to the base of his cock, and tear into the softness of his inner thighs so hard that I can see little beads of blood. _"M'gonna_ _come!"_ Berg practically screams, suddenly free of that heady haze from before, now transformed into something feral and hungry. I slid my mouth off of him just into time to see the twitch and spurt of his cum. It lands mostly on his stomach and my hands.

His body goes limp, and I pat his knee. "I'll go get a towel," I say softly. I'm not sure he even processes the words. His eyes are closed, and I feel like I can almost hear his heart thumping. I get one quickly. I don't want to leave him alone for too long. I don't know much about aftercare (I make a mental note to do some research), but I know about the drop and I want to be prepared. I clean him up quickly, with soft, certain strokes. I wipe up the blood, too, off his legs. I put the towel on the floor beside the couch, and grab two glasses of water.

"Hey, Berg," I say, crouching down near where his head is. "How you feeling?"

He murmurs something.

"What was that?"

"Tired. 'N good."

"That's good. How about some water?" He nods and takes his time sitting up. It's strange to see him so... sluggish. I'm used to him bouncing off the walls.

I sit down next to him and we both drink in silence for a while. It's nice. I feel my pulse return to its normal pace, and my mind clear.

"You want to sleep now? Or something else?"

Berg blinks, then leans against my shoulder and finishes his water. "Let's watch a movie. Remember when I went to that garage sale and bought _Legally Blonde_?"

I nod. "I'll go get it. And a blanket."

* * *

We watch Elle Woods do her smart lawyer kid thing, and sometime around the hour mark I feel myself falling asleep. Berg supports me, wraps his lithe arms around me, holds me tight. It may or may not be everything I never knew I wanted. I doze off to the chatter of the TV mixed delightfully with Berg's sotto musings on the characters (mostly insulting her would-be boyfriend). I don't dream, my brain settled for once. The darkness of my sleep is a silent night sky. I am wrapped in a blanket next to my maybe-lover, definitely best friend. I am okay.


End file.
